To Desire a Dragon - Amanda Milo Page 0,19
pass?” someone whispers. “He stole from the Giant Steppes tribe!”
Ignoring the chatter that flares up like water on boil, Halki stands, carefully lifts the cause of his near-death, and carries his cube of vomit to the lodgehouse.
“What are you doing with that?” I ask.
“Storing it with our things,” he replies.
I turn to stare into the sea of shocked faces around me.
“That’s his casting,” Yatanak says, leaning on his crooked carved walking stick.
“You,” I utter with blame. “Later, we’re going to have words.” I reach up and behind me and begin braiding my hair with deft, aggressive lashings, getting it out of the way in case I can’t help myself and I stomp over to his grinning self and give him a strikedown.
Everyone’s head swivels to look at our wise old tribesman—except for the dragon, who is very busy arranging his vomit chunk with ‘our things.’ He’s still in his dragon form so he can’t fit in the lodgehouse; rather, he’s nosing his dried upchuck next to my bedroll. I find myself leaning sideways to watch how meticulously he tucks it next to my wrapped-up blankets like he’s helping it snuggle with them.
I look back to my tribe. “I need a new bed,” I announce. Somewhere else.
Several of them shake their heads at me.
I roll the end of my braid back on itself so it doesn’t get loose without a thong to tie it back.
Halki comes up behind me, his massive head dropping to nuzzle along my shoulder, and my tribe eases back from us, clearly revolted that the recently puking dragon is touching my skin with his mouth.
“Ready to retire to our nest?” Halki murmurs to me silkily. He closes his teeth over the meat of my arm with only enough force to sting, not puncture. Then he noses the spot and does the same to my neck, nudging my head to the side to give him the access he wants.
Eyes wide as wagon wheels, I let him. I stare at my tribesisters in befuddled—shared—shock.
That is until Västra, who stands facing me with everybody else, boosts Ingrid the goose higher in her arms meaningfully. “He’s grooming you,” she says. “Like an imprinted goose.”
And Ingrid is at this exact moment nomming her bill along Västra’s hair, making whirring, buzzing noises as her bill clicks, wholly engrossed in her bonding task.
Meanwhile, my dragon’s teeth make a scissor-sharp snap every time he moves his mouth, and he’s making soft wuffling noises as he ‘grooms’ me.
Overwhelmed, skin singing everywhere Halki nibbles me, I look to Yatanak, who still stands with the others, watching avidly. “What is a casting?”
Yatanak’s wrinkled face turns even craggier with his smile. His eyes are on my dragon as he replies, “There are tales of castings being very important to Great Cresteds. They store them.”
“But what are they, exactly?”
Halki bumps my shoulder like he wants my attention. When I turn my head, I see he’s waiting for my eyes to meet his. “They’re the parts of meals that can’t be digested. Therefore, our system compacts those bits and regurgitates the bricks.” He glances over his long and many-spine-wedges back to gaze at where his puke brick is hanging out next to my bedroll like it's getting comfortable. “You wouldn’t believe the treasure one can find in their castings.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t believe it.”
As if he doesn’t hear me, he goes on. “I believe that the bovine’s nose ring is solid gold. Very pretty. A good gift for my new mate.”
“What?” I hear one of my tribeswomen choke out before several of them rush to retrieve the suddenly-valuable brick.
Halki’s glimmering black tail slaps down to block the doorway. He glowers until everyone retreats. “This is Nalle’s and my nest. You will not enter it.”
“That’s our lodgehouse,” Vrylee complains.
Halki’s crest fans out, and the streaks that decorate it turn bright and dangerously red as his whole mantle begins to vibrate with warning. “You will not steal my mate’s nest.”
“She’s been ‘your mate’” Vrylee points out, putting extra emphasis on those two words, “for like a day. That’s been our damn lodgehouse for years.”
Halki’s tail curls around me—
Ahhh! A giant snake! I allow myself one shudder before I stomp down my instinctive bolt of panic.
—and drags me close until I bump into his foreleg. “Then you’ve had plenty of time to enjoy it. Embrace change as you part with it. And know this: Crested Merlins matebond in an instant.” His slitted eyes glow menacingly. “I adore my Nalle, so I will forgive your